


Dreams come true

by miyakowasure



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, Johnny's Jr., Sexy Zone
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 01:54:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2132730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miyakowasure/pseuds/miyakowasure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fuma needs some advice and ends up getting more than he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams come true

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Ri in [JE-FQF 2014](http://je-fqfest.livejournal.com/)!

“Do you like having your hair pulled?” Fuma asks, careful not to move his eyes away from the movie they are watching. It’s dark in the living room but he can still see in the right edge of his sight how Hokuto turns his head to look at him.

“Uh, what--”

“During sex,” Fuma specifies, eyes still at the television screen. Hokuto instinctually glances around, despite knowing very well that the whole house is empty, before he turns to look at Fuma again.

“Sure,” he says slowly, “It’s not my number one kink but I like it anyway. Why?”

Fuma shrugs and half wishes he hadn’t said anything at all. He’s already a total mess with his current fantasies of Hokuto’s stupid hot face every time he jerks off, even without new additions into them.

But then again, who else could he ask about such a thing and trust they won’t laugh at him or tease him about it? Despite all the bragging and knowing smiles, Fuma knows most of his friends are still blissfully inexperienced if not especially innocent. That’s normal and exactly how it’s supposed to be, he knows, but stretched truths and urban legends about girls’ (or boys’) preferences aren’t helping him now. Right now he needs someone who has _actually done it,_ even once.

“It’s just--” Fuma starts, realizes he doesn’t know how to explain without all the slightly embarrassing facts, and gives up trying at all. “I had sex. With… someone. Just some girl who has the same courses with me at school - it doesn’t really matter, it was months ago and no feelings were involved.”

He’s talking very quickly and it must sound ridiculous but he can’t help it. He wants Hokuto to understand the girl isn’t anyone he should bother giving another thought.

“And?” Hokuto encourages him, and the absolute lack of judging in his voice is what gives Fuma the final push.

“She didn’t do it on purpose,” he says, “but at some point she was doing something with my hair and accidentally pulled on it and… well, uh. It felt really good.”

“But?”

“She found it really weird,” Fuma finishes with a sigh, finally glancing carefully at Hokuto. “Is it really that weird? I mean, for a guy to like something like that?”

“I just told you I like it too,” Hokuto reminds him and the corners of his mouth twist slightly upwards when he reaches for the remote controller and puts the movie on pause. “She was just hidebound. Why would it be weird in the first place? People like different things anyway.”

“I don’t know! That’s why I asked!” Fuma snaps, leans his elbows on his knees and looks down, unable to face Hokuto right at the moment.

The silence that falls into the room is heavy and kind of awkward. It’s not Hokuto’s fault; he reacted just like Fuma had wished him to. It’s Fuma himself who is making it awkward with his silly unrequited feelings and unconventional desires.

He’s busy enough with his frustrated thoughts that he doesn’t notice Hokuto moving before he feels warm fingers brushing across his neck and slowly combing through his hair. His eyelids flutter shut and a silent whine of surprise and pleasure combined escapes his lips before he can stop the noise.

“Wow,” Hokuto murmurs, and Fuma wonders if he’s just imagining the fascinated tone in Hokuto’s voice before he continues, “You really do like it a lot!”

He keeps moving his hand in Fuma’s hair, tangling his fingers into the dark brown locks and lightly massaging Fuma’s scalp with his fingertips until Fuma feels like purring because of the pleasant sensations. It’s Fuma’s turn to be confused now but he doesn’t dare ask anything, afraid of breaking the bubble of this surreal moment where Hokuto is touching his hair just like in one of Fuma’s recent daydreams.

He can’t help a sharp inhale and a shiver when Hokuto suddenly grabs a handful of hair and yanks on it gently.

“Fuma,” Hokuto whispers and now his voice really sounds husky and awed in a way that goes right down to Fuma’s pants.

“Don’t stop,” Fuma gasps and doesn’t even try to hide the pleading tone in his voice. He doesn’t know what is going on. He doesn’t know what Hokuto is up to. He doesn’t even know how it started. The only thing he knows is that he wants Hokuto to continue what he’s doing, and never stop.

“I won’t,” Hokuto promises in a shaky voice, the fingertips of his left hand still drawing gentle circles on Fuma’s scalp. He moves his hand to the other side of Fuma’s head and adds just enough pressure that he can lead Fuma’s head to rest against his shoulder.

The invitation couldn’t be clearer, and suddenly Fuma’s limbs remember how to move again. He grabs on Hokuto’s free right arm, pulling it around his own back and pressing his nose against Hokuto’s neck, and inhales the familiar scent in a way he has never been able to do before. Hokuto shivers and tightens his hold on Fuma’s back and head, and Fuma feels like he could easily melt into the sweet warmth of Hokuto’s body. Hokuto’s closeness makes him feel slightly dizzy and his heart is beating as if it was trying to fight its way out of his chest.

“Fuma,” Hokuto suddenly murmurs, “is this really okay?”

“Yes,” Fuma breathes, nodding quickly against Hokuto’s chest.

“No, I mean it,” Hokuto says and withdraws a few inches so he can see Fuma’s face. “You need to understand. I don’t want to fool around!”

Hokuto’s words kind of feel like a slap on Fuma’s cheeks that immediately turn red from embarrassment. Here he is, obtruding Hokuto’s personal area and demanding for attention like some shameless kitten. At the same time he can’t stop a frown; it had been Hokuto who had started the whole thing. Why would he do such a thing if he didn’t want to?

“I mean, uh,” Hokuto stammers and lets his hands fall down to his lap. “It’s kind of embarrassing and weird and all, but I think I like you. I mean, you know. That way.”

It feels like Fuma’s heart completely stops for the five seconds that it takes him to process Hokuto’s words, and when he’s finally finished, there’s no way he could prevent a wide foolish smile from forming on his face. His insides twitch funnily, and a cold shiver runs down his spine when he repeats Hokuto’s words in his mind. He doesn’t know how he could possibly be so lucky, but he wants to believe Hokuto really meant it.

“Well then I guess it’s a good thing that I like you too,” he blurts out. It’s far from the cool and mature confession he’s had in his mind for ages but it seems to fill its purpose anyway, if the way Hokuto’s eyes widen is any indicator.

“Wait, you… seriously?” Hokuto asks and Fuma rolls his eyes.

“No, I’ve just become fond of throwing really bad jokes lately,” he snorts and gently slaps Hokuto’s temple with his palm. “Of course I’m being serious! I would never say such a thing without meaning it!”

They share a silent moment of mutual awe before Hokuto gathers his courage again and raises his hand to rest on Fuma’s neck. Fuma tilts his head towards the hand and hums quietly, looks up into Hokuto’s shining eyes and feels another twist inside his stomach. The dull burn of excitement from earlier is still there but now there’s something else too, as if something was missing.

It takes him a while to realize that it’s the agony of his heavy secret that he’s lacking. Even so, he doesn’t feel empty at all. In fact, it’s quite the contrary. By now he feels like his chest is actually bursting with several kinds of warm feelings that he can’t - or doesn’t even want to - categorize. They should probably talk about it a bit more but Fuma figures it can wait.

“Isn’t it weird,” Hokuto murmurs in a tight voice, “It was much easier to touch you before… before now.”

“But it feels even better now,” Fuma says truthfully, and Hokuto nods. He still looks incredulous enough that Fuma can’t help a chuckle when looking at him.

“Don’t laugh!” Hokuto snaps but the sharpness of his voice is interrupted by a broad smile, “I never thought this could be so… not awfully scary and complicated. You can’t just expect me to get over it that quickly!”

“Maybe I can help you with that?” Fuma asks, feeling a sudden rush of adrenaline in his veins when he leans in to take Hokuto’s head between his hands and presses their mouths together. The first touch of lips is tentative but firm, and Fuma doesn’t hesitate to press closer to Hokuto, moving his lips against Hokuto’s and enjoying the excited tickle on the bottom of his stomach when Hokuto answers to the kiss eagerly, as if he has been dreaming about it exactly as long as Fuma.

Maybe he has.

It gets better every second, with Hokuto letting his hands wander all around Fuma’s back, shoulders, neck, and hair without an inch of hesitation and Fuma doesn’t even try to restrain his small noises and gasps. He’s glad Hokuto isn’t holding back his noises either; Hokuto’s voice is a peculiar combination of a high pitch on an otherwise deep voice, and Fuma loves every single grunt and moan, wanting to hear more and more of it.

What makes it the best, however, is the way Hokuto throws himself into the kiss completely, taking the lead and inching closer to Fuma until Fuma’s back is pressing against the hand rest of the sofa.

“Feels good,” Fuma praises, even though his current position against the hand rest isn’t actually the most comfortable one. He does his best to hide it from Hokuto, however, because the last thing he wants is Hokuto to stop what he’s doing. Hokuto smiles and snuggles closer to him, leaning his cheek on Fuma’s chest. By some weird impulse he chuckles and rubs his nose against Fuma’s stomach and chest before hiding his face into Fuma’s armpit.

“Oh my god, don’t do that!” Fuma laughs and pushes Hokuto away, “I only had like half a minute for showering at work today!”

Hokuto simply snorts at his words and Fuma smiles sheepishly. He knows the matter is more about his own comfort than Hokuto’s; Hokuto probably wouldn’t care even if Fuma smelled like a truck full of rotten tuna.

“Well then let’s have a bath!” Hokuto suddenly suggests, and Fuma’s jaw drops at the mere thought of it, from several different reasons.

“But it’s past midnight already!” is the first thing he gets out of his mouth but Hokuto brushes it off with a carefree wave of hand.

“My family isn’t at home so no-one will be disturbed,” he reasons, “And I really don’t think I can go to sleep without my evening bath!”

Fuma might be able to come up with more excuses if he really tried to, but the truth is, he doesn’t really want to. The thought of taking a bath together with Hokuto right after everything that’s happened during the last half an hour makes him feel giddy and nervous, but he forces himself to calm down. It’s not a big deal; he’s seen Hokuto naked a million times and bathed with him, even in the very same tiny bath tub of Hokuto’s home. Never mind that was years ago.

Well, maybe it’s at least a middle-sized deal, Fuma quietly admits to himself when they are in Hokuto’s room, both undressing at the opposite ends of the room, because Hokuto isn’t the type of person who would give up a good idea when he gets one. Fuma knows he doesn’t really have anything to hide but he still gladly accepts the fluffy towel when Hokuto brings it to him, and wraps it tightly around his waist.

There’s room for only one to shower at once, and Hokuto offers Fuma the first turn right away.

Fuma doesn’t wait for a second order. He hangs his towel on a small hook attached to the door and sits on the tiny plastic stool on the floor, takes the shower hand and turns the tap - and screams when the ice cold water hits his skin.

“Sorry!” Hokuto gasps from the door when Fuma directs the shower towards the still empty bath tub, “I forgot to tell you I’ve had the warm water switched off the whole day!” He presses a few buttons on the small control panel on the wall and the panel plays a short, cheerful melody, announcing that the water heating is switched on and that the bath tub is filling.

Fuma feels a bit stupid; he has definitely visited the Matsumura household often enough that he should already remember things like this. He simply forgot for a while; at Fuma’s own home his father had their whole piping system renewed a couple of years ago, and Fuma’s already used to getting warm water immediately as he just opens the tap.

The water takes its time but eventually it gets warm enough for Fuma to use it for showering.

“Need help?” Hokuto casually asks from behind Fuma’s back when he’s hung his own towel onto the same hook with Fuma’s towel. Fuma almost points out that he’s perfectly capable of washing his hair himself, thank you very much, before he realizes that’s not the point at all.

“If you want to,” he says and Hokuto’s face spreads into a bright smile that reflects from the small mirror on the wall. Hokuto sits down onto the edge of the bath tub, grabs a bottle of shampoo from a small shelf on the wall, and pours a good amount of pearl white substance on his palm.

“Close your eyes,” he tells Fuma before slipping his fingers into Fuma’s wet hair. The request is hardly needed - with the way Hokuto moves his hands there’s no way Fuma could even imagine keeping his eyes open. He leans his head slightly back and concentrates on breathing and relaxing into the hair wash. It might actually be the most intimate thing Fuma’s ever done with anyone.

“I like your hair,” Hokuto says as he gently spreads the shampoo everywhere and rubs Fuma’s hair until his head is full of white foam, “The current cut is perfect, just so you know, and I like the color too.”

“Thanks,” Fuma murmurs, not quite sure what else he could say. He himself prefers lighter hair color but if Hokuto likes the darker shade, Fuma is not going to object. To each their own, and so on.

Luckily Hokuto doesn’t seem to be expecting for a specific answer. Instead, he grabs the shower hand and tests the water on his own arm before he starts to carefully rinse the shampoo away, pressing the side of his other palm on Fuma’s forehead so that the water won’t accidentally get to his eyes.

“The dark blue bottle in the basket is my face cleansing gel, in case you need some,” Hokuto says conversationally when all the shampoo is gone, and Fuma takes the bottle with a thankful nod. The both of them know his skin type is - nicely expressed - horrible, and that he absolutely has to wash his face every night and morning without exceptions if he wants to keep it in any bearable condition.

“Beware the eyes, again,” Hokuto warns once Fuma has scrubbed the gel on his face, and directs the shower on Fuma’s face. “May I also wash your back?”

In the end Hokuto washes quite a lot more than just Fuma’s back, but it’s not like Fuma is complaining. The feeling of the sponge moving across his neck, back and sides is really nice, and Hokuto’s bare skin brushing against his own every now and then is exciting and slightly teasing. When Hokuto finally puts the sponge away, Fuma grabs his arms and pulls him into a deep kiss. It still feels incredible that he can actually do so whenever he wants to, and he’s determined to take the full advantage of it.

After that it’s Hokuto’s turn to get cleaned, and Fuma does his best to be as attentive and careful as Hokuto had been towards him. He’s glad for Hokuto having come up with the idea of taking a bath; this way he can touch Hokuto as much as he wants and it’s not awkward at all, like it might have been had they stayed on the living room sofa.

The control panel on the wall informs them that the bath is ready. The small tub is barely wide enough for the both of them, and they have to sit down at the same time, side by side, their knees almost in their mouths. As they sink in the hot water, probably more than half of the water pours over the edges of the tub.

“I guess we have grown up more than I realized,” Hokuto sighs wistfully, “Remember how it was before; we used to fit in even though there were four of us!”

Fuma nods, recalling the distant memories of himself, Hokuto, Kento, and Yugo squeezing into this very same bath tub together. Well, in fact even then they had usually taken turns between two sitting in the water and two on the edge, but sometimes the four of them had actually sat in the water all together. Nowadays it would have been pointless to even try.

“Imagine them trying to fit in here with us right now,” Hokuto continues and laughs at this own mental image. The sound of his laughter is deep and rich, and it echoes in the small bathroom as well as in Fuma’s heart. With Hokuto’s wet hair smooth and flat against his head and such a warm, playful smile on his face Fuma sees a flash of the fifteen-year-old kid with whom he once worked daily, and the sudden feeling of nostalgia squeezes his throat.

“What are you looking at?” Hokuto asks, and Fuma’s answer is honest.

“You.”

“What about me?” Hokuto demands and Fuma makes a face at the man. Hokuto, that brat, is only asking for more attention. Luckily that’s exactly what Fuma wants to give him, as much as he can. He wraps his other arm around Hokuto’s shoulders and reaches the other to cup Hokuto’s cheek.

“Your face,” he murmurs and presses a light kiss on the corner of Hokuto’s mouth, pleased with the way Hokuto’s eyes flutter shut. “Your neck and shoulders,” he continues and lets his fingertips travel down along Hokuto’s collar bones, “your arms, your back, your chest, your legs,” he lists and follows the same path with his hands, paying extra attention on all the thinnest spots of skin, over which he drags his fingertips slowly and deliberately, happy to see how Hokuto winces and sighs every now and them.

“Keep going,” Hokuto murmurs, leaning his head against Fuma’s shoulder, and the tone of his voice makes Fuma’s skin rise on goose pumps. His free hand is shivering lightly when he runs his palm across Hokuto’s chest and then brings his fingers up to circle around Hokuto’s nipples, gently teasing the small nubs until they harden up and Hokuto is gasping against Fuma’s neck, arching towards the touch.

“More, Fuma, please,” Hokuto gasps and his low, needy moans make Fuma feel like all of his blood is suddenly traveling towards his crotch.

“I don’t quite have enough room here,” Fuma says apologetically, and jumps a bit when Hokuto suddenly cranks himself up from the tub. He flops down to sit on the edge, just like they did years ago, and that’s pretty much all about how it used to be. They had been mere children that time, and those children had nothing to do with the tall and handsome present-day Hokuto who sits on the edge of the tub his eyes half closed and his muscular chest and abs heaving along the gasps of breath, his lips and cheeks pink of arousal, and his cock half hard between his legs. Fuma has to swallow at the sight for a few times as he tries to remember how to breathe.

“Touch me, Fuma,” Hokuto pleads and Fuma feels a shiver of arousal zapping through his body, as well. Now that he’s alone in the tub, he has lots of room to move onto his knees, and he only hesitates for a second before he lays his hands on Hokuto’s knees to part them, and settles down between Hokuto’s legs.

It might be a slightly hasty move to do but then again, neither one of them is doing it the first time. Except with each other; a thought that makes Fuma’s fingertips feel cold and shaky when he slowly runs his hands along Hokuto’s thighs, moving in small circles that eventually reach his inner thighs. The light touch makes Hokuto jump a bit, and Fuma smiles, once again pleased with himself.

Then Hokuto moves his hand from the edge of the tub and grabs a good handful of Fuma’s hair into his fist, and Fuma’s loud gasp is followed by Hokuto’s snicker.

“Serves you right, you tease,” he says and Fuma, even without opening his eyes, makes a face at him.

“I only did what you asked me to,” he points out and slowly looks up at Hokuto through his eyelashes, knowing very well what an effect such a move usually has on people.

“I asked you to touch me,” Hokuto repeats his earlier plea.

“So I did,” Fuma says and raises his eyebrows, “I warn you, Matsumura. You might not want to give me any weird ideas.”

“Is that a challenge?” Hokuto asks and narrows his eyes, slightly tightening his grip on Fuma’s hair again.

“It’s not,” Fuma says lightly, fighting to keep his face even, “But calling me a tease with such little evidence…” He clicks his tongue, reaches out his index finger and uses his fingertip to draw a single smooth line from the base of Hokuto’s cock up to its tip. “You might notice I was only warming up yet.”

Hokuto swallows and shivers at the touch, but to his honor it must be said that he controls himself very well this time. Fuma, instead, wonders if his own action has just backfired when he glances up at Hokuto and the look in the man’s dark eyes makes him feel a thousand different things at once. He’s excited and aroused and wants to touch every square inch of Hokuto’s skin he can reach. At the same times he feels shy and curious and hesitant, afraid of doing something wrong because it’s not like he’s done this a dozen times before, despite his moderate amount of experience. He wants to get closer to Hokuto and make him moan, and at the same time he just wants to _look at him_ for the rest of his life.

Well, that’s something he’s already been doing ever since they were juniors together.

“You’re spacing out again,” Hokuto says gently and interrupts Fuma from his thoughts by leaning down and catching Fuma’s lips into a kiss that is sweet enough to make Fuma’s heart flutter and ache with all the things he can’t verbally express to the other man.

“I’d love to continue this forever,” Hokuto murmurs against Fuma’s lips, “but, uh. The Little One is getting impatient and it’s actually making me feel kind of uncomfortable…”

“ _The Little One_ ,” Fuma repeats and only barely restrains his urge to laugh aloud because the euphemism is simply so ludicrous. “Geez, Hokuto. Are you nine or nineteen?”

“Shut up,” Hokuto gnarls and there’s a tint of red on his cheeks. Fuma finds it adorable.

“I don’t see anything little here,” he says truthfully, because as far as he can tell, in this respect Hokuto is perfectly average.

Hokuto makes a snorting sound but doesn’t object, and Fuma decides to finally have pity on him. He reaches his hand up again and this time wraps his fingers tentatively around Hokuto’s cock. Hokuto closes his eyes and leans his head sideways, to rest against the white tiled wall of the bathroom.

“Feels good,” he murmurs and Fuma smiles quietly, easily settling into a smooth rhythm. It’s not much different than touching himself, he figures, except that it’s different in all possible ways because it’s _Hokuto_. 

Hokuto’s skin under his touch is soft and warm, and his grip on Fuma’s hair tightens every now and then, making sudden flashes of pleasure run down Fuma’s spine. When a wet drop of precum appears on the tip of Hokuto’s cock, Fuma leans in to lick it away without another thought. The taste is weird but nothing unbearable, and a surprised gasp from Hokuto encourages him. After a short glance up into Hokuto’s closed eyes Fuma takes the whole head into his mouth. He gives it a light, tentative suck, and Hokuto lets out such a filthy moan that it makes Fuma want to bang him against the wall right then and there. 

The thrill of knowing it’s because of him that Hokuto sounds like he does makes Fuma’s head spin and he speeds up a bit, just to hear more of those noises.

He doesn’t need to be disappointed: it’s as if Hokuto knew how his voice affects Fuma, and was taking the full advantage of it. His gasps and moans get louder and longer when Fuma explores new ways to use his mouth on him, sucking and licking until Hokuto is a shivering mess on the edge of the bath tub.

“Fuma,” he warns and drops his shaky hand from Fuma’s hair to his shoulder to push Fuma away, “I--”

That’s all he manages before he’s coming already. His fingers squeeze Fuma’s shoulder and he drops his head down, gasping for breath when his whole body shudders along the waves of his orgasm. 

Fuma has never seen anything as beautiful.

“Ew.” Hokuto murmurs as he leans his head against the wall again, and his exhausted giggle combined with the white streaks of come staining Fuma’s shoulder is so unsexy that Fuma can’t help joining into his sheepish laughter.

“I better get up before it’s all in the water,” Fuma chuckles and tries to get up on his feet, but Hokuto stops him by pressing his lips against Fuma’s again and kissing him until Fuma forgets everything he might have been about to say.

“Need help?” Hokuto asks, his voice low and alluring, and after a few unsuccessful attempts to talk Fuma simply nods. “Good,” Hokuto says, “because I’ve wanted to get my hands on you for ages already. Get up from there.”

For the second time on the same night Hokuto’s straightforwardness leaves Fuma speechless and he finds himself obeying blindly, taking Hokuto’s hand when offered for it, and lets Hokuto pull them both out of the bath tub. Usually they wouldn’t shower after bath but this time Fuma is thankful when Hokuto turns on the shower again.

When Hokuto is done washing them both again, he leaves the water running and pushes Fuma against the wall. Fuma winces at the coldness of the tiles touching his skin but then Hokuto is pressing against him, his chest against Fuma’s back, and Fuma’s mind gets busy with much better things.

“Say, Fuma,” Hokuto purrs right into Fuma’s ear, “have you ever thought about me like this?” he asks and deliberately rolls his hips, his crotch rubbing against Fuma’s ass in a way that implies much more. The mere thought makes Fuma close his eyes and gasp for breath, but at the same time he manages to nod because yes, he has definitely thought about it, more than once to be honest.

“I’m not going to do it today,” Hokuto continues in the same low tone, “but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t imagine how it would feel.”

If Fuma ever cared about his pride or felt embarrassed about anything, it all vanishes in two heartbeats and he moans aloud at the thought of Hokuto touching him _there_ , pushing inside him and making him see stars with his every movement. He doesn’t know where Hokuto gets all the shameless courage to talk like that but he doesn’t really care; he loves every second of it.

“I’ve been imagining it, you know,” Hokuto whispers and runs his big warm hands up and down on Fuma’s chest, sides, and back, dipping slightly lower every now and then until Fuma is squirming and arching towards the touch. Hokuto soon figures out which places are the ones that make Fuma jump as he touches them, and seems to gladly utilize every new piece of information he manages to get.

Hokuto’s warm, firm body pressed tightly against his own, Hokuto’s hands on his skin and his lips nibbling on Fuma’s neck are almost enough to drive him across the line, but not quite.

“Hokuto,” Fuma moans and leans his forehead against his own arms on the wall, “touch me. Please?”

“Gladly,” Hokuto chuckles and reaches his hand down. He wraps his fingers around Fuma’s cock and immediately starts a quick rhythm, stroking him until Fuma gasps loudly and spills himself on Hokuto’s hand.

“Wow.” Hokuto’s whisper is the first thing Fuma hears once he manages to gather together the pieces of his coherence. Hokuto’s arms are tightly wrapped around Fuma’s waist but he loosens his grip when Fuma moves a bit. Fuma turns around and his heart makes a sudden somersault. Hokuto’s breath is still as heavy as Fuma’s, his mouth is slightly open, and his eyes are dark and wide as he looks at Fuma like there’s nothing else in the world that matters. Like Fuma was perfect and the best thing Hokuto has ever had in his arms.

Fuma’s breath catches as he realizes he knows exactly what it is that Hokuto is feeling.

“I guess we need a third shower,” he murmurs. Hokuto blinks a few times and the awed stare in his eyes changes puzzled before the corner of his mouth twitches and pulls upwards.

“Your turn to use the shower hand,” Hokuto announces, failing at sounding serious when a cheerful grin brightens up his face.  
-

 

“It feels weird,” Fuma murmurs when they’re both lying in Hokuto’s bed, face to face and hands joined together under the blanket. “In a good way,” he adds when Hokuto raises his eyebrows.

“It does,” Hokuto admits. He lowers his gaze from Fuma’s eyes, his smile sheepish and his cheeks slightly pink, and Fuma wants to laugh at the image gap that the other just created. It’s almost like this Hokuto here and the former Hokuto in the bathroom were whole different people, with the other being straightforward and shameless while the other is awkward and timid. No, Fuma corrects his own river of thoughts, there may be many things that Hokuto is but timid is definitely not one of those.

“How long have you… you know, liked me?” Fuma asks, just to give Hokuto something else to think about. (It’s a noble thing to do, he praises himself.)

“I don’t know,” Hokuto says thoughtfully. He looks up into Fuma’s face again but not quite into his eyes, and Fuma guesses Hokuto is recalling his secret memories and feelings. “I guess I’ve always liked you, somehow. But I only realized what exactly it was when you weren’t there anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” Fuma murmurs and sighs, “for not being there for you.”

“It’s okay,” Hokuto says and there’s only a mild shade of bitterness in his smile. “You couldn’t help it. Besides, I wasn’t alone. I had people around me. In fact, I once realized it was the other way around, that time. It was actually you and Kento who were the lonely ones, right?”

It’s so like Hokuto, Fuma thinks and chuckles quietly, to know Fuma’s feelings better than Fuma himself does.

“It got better soon,” he says, not quite eager to analyze the painful feelings he’s already left behind but not trying to lie either. “In the beginning I wished everything could be like it was before but now… I think I just got used to those guys, eventually. I like them, now. I couldn’t even imagine to--”

Fuma abruptly stops his sentence when the harsh reality reminds of itself, and he has to close his eyes for a moment.

A soft touch on Fuma’s cheekbone makes him open his eyes again, and he meets Hokuto’s gentle eyes.

“Don’t think about it. It’s going to be all right, too,” Hokuto says emphatically, and Fuma desperately wants to believe him. He nods and sighs.

“It’s okay to be selfish sometimes,” Hokuto continues quietly, “And I kind of don’t want anything to spoil this moment from us.”

“Me neither,” Fuma says and manages a smile on his face. “Want to make me forget it for a while?”

“Be careful what you ask for,” Hokuto laughs and leans closer so that their noses bump together, “Because you might get it.”

“Well, then,” Fuma says, acting like he’s actually wondering what to ask. “How about… Can I have you?”

“I’m disappointed,” Hokuto chuckles, “There’s a whole world of things you could get, and you choose the one thing you already have.”

“Shut up moron,” Fuma says and rolls them over so that he’s laying half on Hokuto’s chest, “It’s a good thing I’m already used to your humor, or I might actually change my mind!”

“Except that you wouldn’t,” Hokuto says, and his unwavering confidence and trust into _them_ is what melts Fuma’s heart once and for all.

“I wouldn’t,” he confirms. There will be many things to talk through in the morning but those things can all wait. Fuma doesn’t care even if they’re currently being sappy and fluffy for the needs of a whole human life. He doesn’t care that his neck is going to be all stiff in the morning if he falls asleep on Hokuto. He doesn’t even care that they never finished the movie.

For now, he just wants to stay where he is and concentrate on one of the best moments in his life.


End file.
